


Ask Me

by islandgirl_246



Series: Just You and Me [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actor Stiles, Angst, Lawyer Laura, Lawyer Peter Hale, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 11:09:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11183883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandgirl_246/pseuds/islandgirl_246
Summary: “Peter, you can’t just not acknowledge his birthday.” Laura said as if he was being ridiculous or unreasonable.Truth was, Peter had no plans of ignoring Stiles' birthday. In fact, he had every intention of fucking him into the mattress later tonight. They had plans for just that; and only that. It was the bells and whistles that they had no time for. They didn’t do complicated. The sex was simple, and they liked it that way.





	Ask Me

**Author's Note:**

> So I found something else to add. This is for those who wanted a little more of this verse. I'll add as ideas and the mood strike. Enjoy.

Peter rolled over and stretched. The soreness he felt was a welcomed reminder of another awesome night of debauchery. He smiled.

Opening one eye, he laid there a minute longer just listening, for any sign of movement in the penthouse. Hearing none, he stretched again, satisfied. It would seem Stiles had snuck out early again. It was just as well, the younger man knew he had an early morning and what was looking to be a long day. In fact it was a busy one for both of them. Stiles had an early screen reading himself for his newest action flick.

Glancing at the clock Peter saw it was too late for yoga this morning, so he rolled off the rumpled silk sheets, and headed for the shower. Turning the water on as hot as he could stand, he stood at the sink for a moment to brush his teeth. By the time he was finished, the mirror was already sweating from the heat and steam of the shower.

He stepped under the steaming stream and groaned, letting the water sluice over his head, down his back and a sharp sting had him hissing and reaching back. Sure enough, that was a scratch. He shook his head. He’d have to warn Stiles again about his penchant for digging his nails in.

The thought bought a chuckle from Peter as he reached for the shower gel. It’s weight told him Stiles had been using it again and he’d have to replace the bottle soon. He needed to find a way for the man to finally allow him to buy him his own damn bath gel. He’d yet to figure out the correct brand and he’d tried three times already, but each bottle only added weight to his bathroom refuse bin. Each remained unsurprisingly unopened and was tossed aside by Stiles with shameless glee and way too much laughter.

++++++

He’d spent most of the morning in meetings, and had just returned to his office when Erica brandished the telephone at him. He’d completed the call and started another when a folder smacked onto the surface of his desk and spun. A frown marred his brow as he raised one brow at his assistant. She’d returned a day ago from two weeks holiday, looking tanned and sated. Peter refused to ask for any details, despite the fact that Erica moved like a woman busting to share every little tidbit of her latest tryst.

It was one of the reasons she’d been the only assistant to last beyond a week – the fact that they were both shameless about their sex lives. They’d been working together for three years now. Despite the fact that she’d started as a temp, she knew him better than most, and they had enough history between them now – most of it shared over alcohol and late nights – that Peter could tell whatever this was, she wouldn’t allow him to ignore it.

He opened the folder and pulled out the pictures. Each were of some kind of masculine leather bracelet – different designs and different colour leathers. “Which?” Erica queried, hands in hips like he should have a fucking clue what she was going on about. “I can get it engraved and collected before the end of the day.”

Peter said a few words into the phone, telling Mona he’d call her back shortly and ended the conversation.

“You do realize I was on the phone? And what the hell is this?”

Erica looked at him like he was crazy, and exhaled in clear exasperation. “I don’t have time for jokes, Peter. I’m already late with the order and despite the fact that it’s from Stiles’ favourite designer, if I don’t get the order completed in half hour, they can’t promise I’ll get it back today.”

Peter frowned even more. “And why the hell are you ordering a bracelet for Stiles, and from his _favourite_ designer, no less,” he stressed the word. “How do you even know who his favourite designer is, far from knowing he has one?”

Clearly he’d lost his mind, or at least that was what the expression on Erica’s face said. “You’re kidding right?” she said after a slight pause that left her looking discomforted. It was not a familiar expression on her face.

“No, Erica, I’m not fucking kidding. What the hell is this?”

Just then Laura came through the door. “Since you’re going to be leaving early, I need your feedback on this before you skip out, and I mean it Peter. I have dinner with the Headleys tonight about their lawsuit.”

Peter was finally feeling like he’d entered the Twilight Zone. “Why am I leaving early?”

Erica and Laura shared identical looks of incredulity. “I know. I thought he was joking at first,” Erica whispered to her other boss in disbelief, and Peter smacked his hand on his desk, startling them both. “What is this about?” his voice went up a notch.

“You do know that today is Stiles’ birthday, don’t you?”

“And that has what to do with anything.”

For a moment there was absolute silence in his office, as both women goggled at him. “I think he’s actually serious,” Erica was the first to respond.

“Peter, you can’t just not acknowledge his birthday.” Laura said as if he was being ridiculous or unreasonable.

Truth was, Peter had no plans of ignoring Stiles' birthday. In fact, he had every intention of fucking him into the mattress later tonight. They had plans for just that; and only that. It was the bells and whistles that they had no time for. They didn’t do complicated. The sex was simple, and they liked it that way.

Annoyed, Erica snatched the folder from under his slack fingers and brandished the images at Laura. “Which one, I don’t have a lot of time.”

Laura surveyed the samples and nodded. “The dark brown with the gold. It’ll match his eyes. And let them wrap it, cause heaven knows this one won’t.”

Erica nodded briskly, tossing a glance of ire at Peter that he knew he’d hear about in great detail later, and rushed out – evidently back to her desk to place an order, no doubt in his name and on his dime. Peter growled at Laura. “Why am I doing this again?”

“Which this, be specific. This as in giving me feedback on a case, which is your job as partner; or this, as in making plans to give your boyfriend a gift on his birthday.”

“Wait, my what?”

“Peter, everyone knows you’ve been seeing Stiles for three weeks now. Stiles and no one else.”

“And . . .?”

“And neither has he. Allison says he’s not seeing anyone else either. Usually that’s how exclusive relationships work.” Laura said, as if she was talking to a child.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Peter moaned under his breath. “That’s your evidence. The fact that we’ve been fucking for three weeks makes us exclusive, a couple?” Peter was getting more and more annoyed.

Laura saw it and it only got her back up. “Crimson Rose! For once can you be fucking normal? Does everything have to be a fight with you? So you like this guy enough not to be screwing anyone else. Great. Is it going to kill you to get him a fucking gift for his birthday? Something that lets him know at least you thought about something other than his dick today?”

“Stiles has no problem with me just thinking about his dick.”

“There are so many things in that statement I don’t want in my head,” Erica said, entering his office again.

And because he’d had as much of this insanity as he would take, Peter balled his hands into fists and declared, “Enough. Both of you get out, and don’t come back if this is what you’re going to talk about. Leave the file and get out.”

“Peter . . .” Erica began.

“Out, now!” he ordered calmly and quietly. And it got both women moving.

“I’m having the bracelet delivered because if I put it in your hands Lord knows he’ll never see it.” With that parting defiance, his assistant closed his door quietly.

Peter groaned and thought of smacking his head into his desk. Why couldn’t they leave it alone? He hated his family when they meddled, and they always meddled.

++++++

Stiles laughed and guzzled the drink. Danny was telling a hilarious story of getting caught with his pants around his ankles in a nightclub a week ago, literally with some twink on his knees between his spread legs. The problem was it was by a girl who’d thought she could slip into the men’s room to relieve herself because of the long lines for the females’ washroom. She’d gotten more than she bargained for.

As Danny gesticulated about how the guy fell back on his ass, pushing Danny back and having him trip over his own pants and almost landing in the urinal, Stiles almost snorted his scotch through his nose. His coughing fit was averted by hearty smacks on his back by Scott, who was likewise sporting a huge grin. Stiles inhaled, coughed and started laughing again.

They had a private room at the restaurant and their own serving staff. It wasn’t really a surprise. It was a standing expectation that unless one of them made other plans with their significant other, on the date of each birthday they reserved a room somewhere and spent part of the evening toasting another year and good friendships.

Stiles, Scott, Allison, Danny, Lydia, sometimes Jordan and Kira, when she was in town. Tonight everyone was there. Stiles glanced at his watch – 7:37; he’d leave in another hour for Peter’s. By then most of them would be drunk or retiring for the night.

This was a welcomed reprieve from a frustrating morning, where he, the director and the script writer kept butting heads on lines in the script that to Stiles made no fucking sense whatsoever. They’d decided to do a rewrite, changing some of the lines Stiles had been more familiar with from the first dry-run. The problem was the newest adaptation was dry and unimaginative. They took out some of the juicier bits, declaring that a focus group had judged some of it too offensive. But tonight was not one to dwell on manuscripts, and directors’ egos.

He caught Ali leaning over whispering furiously to Scott once more. She’d done that several times already tonight – both her and Lydia. This time, Ali grabbed Scott by the arm and virtually dragged him away into a corner where the whispered conversation continued, a little more loudly this time. Stiles wondered if they were on again or off again, just like old times. He glanced at Kira who rolled her eyes. Yup, they all knew how this went.

“Oi!” he called out when the voices raised again. “This is my night remember? If you guys wanna screw your brains out, or better yet fight about screwing each other’s brains out, do it on your own time.”

Allison flushed and Scott’s mouth dropped open. He looked like a cross between a guppy and a kicked puppy as he resumed his seat next to Stiles.

“So where is he?” Allison said, seeming at the end of her tether, face serious.

“Who?” Stiles looked at Scott baffled, filling his mouth with another delicious hors d’oeuvre. He needed to stack up on his energy for later. Peter had plans for each and every one of his limbs and he needed prep.

“I can’t believe he didn’t show up!” she continued indignantly. “Of all the nerve.”

“Who?!” Stiles asked around puffed cheeks, sipping his refreshed drink. He’d have to slow down a bit because he knew there was no way Peter would touch him if he was drunk. He’d refused once before, spouting some such lawyer-ly shit about diminished capacity the first time Stiles showed up after a celebration party, more than a little tipsy.

“Your boyfriend that’s who!” Lydia joined in dryly.

He almost choked on the drink. _Wait, what!?_ “What did you say?”

“I told you guys I didn’t invite him. I didn’t think I should.” Scott interrupted, eyes dancing between Stiles, Allison and Lydia.

“Invite who? Could someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Stiles was confused. _What was up with his friends?_

Ali opened her mouth, maybe to launch into a tirade, when a knock sounded on the door. One of the staff opened to a man standing in the doorway. He wasn’t familiar to any of them. The waiter took something from him and walked over to the table.

“Excuse me, Mr. Stilinski. A messenger just dropped this off for you? Can you sign here?” The man ended the question, holding out digital pad and stylus to him. Stiles squiggled his name on the indicated area and handed the thing back, turning what was clearly a gift over and over in his hands. He frowned and looked around the table. They’d all already given him their gifts. He looked at the gold-wrapped box as a hush descended over the group. There was no card on the packaging.

He tore the wrapping off thinking maybe it was from his dad. He’d done this before. Beneath the gold leaf was an equally gold box – a box with an insignia he knew. _No, not his dad. Dad wouldn’t buy this._ He removed the lid, hands no longer steady, to find a card. Lydia, who was on his other side, plucked the card from the box. Stiles reached out and snatched it back from her busy fingers, tucking in under his plate. He pulled back the tissue paper to reveal a gorgeous bracelet, and _yup, from his favourite designer_. His breath almost stopped.

He pulled the card quickly back to look at the stationery. It was an embossed card from Hale & Hale, more specifically, from the desk of one Peter Hale. _Uh oh_ , his mind stuttered. _Shit!_

Scott seemed to go pale for a moment, as Lydia smirked and Allison looked way too pleased with herself.

“I . . . Ali’s been on me about not inviting Peter, but I didn’t think . . . I mean, you would have said something, right . . . I didn’t think you. . .,” Scott was all but tripping over his tongue now.

Allison folded her arms and looked satisfied. “Even though Scott didn’t directly invite him, I know he’s aware of where you were celebrating your birthday. I spoke to Laura, who was there when the gift was ordered.”

Stiles eyes bugged out. _Fuck!_ He cleared his throat and tried to reboot his brain. “Look, there was no reason to invite Peter. Why would you think you needed to?” His gaze shifted between his friends. Jordan and Ali shared a look, and Lydia’s eyebrows rose, while Scott continued to look a little constipated.

Kira and Danny were the only two who, like Stiles, looked like they wanted to leave this conversation the fuck alone. But Allison was not stubborn for no reason. “Well for one, I know you’ve been spending almost every night at his place,” she said, “and for another, you haven’t been seeing anyone else since you two started up together.”

Stiles scowled at Scott, he knew his best friend was the only one he talked to about his sex life. Clearly that was a habit that would shortly come to a screeching halt if he’d be divulging secrets to the likes of Allison and Lydia. “And that’s evidence of what exactly. . .” Stiles flailed. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know the conclusions you guys are drawing.”

He was getting annoyed. “For your information, even though it’s none of your God-damned business, it just so happens that I like sex, in fact I love sex; and guess what, so does Peter Hale. So we have a lot of it, all over his apartment, in various positions.” The seriously squicked-out expression on a few faces encouraged him to press his point home. “What that means is that it is also none of your business how often I’m at his place or he’s at mine. We are two consenting adults and I would appreciate if my friends,” he drew the word out and glanced from Scott to Allison to Lydia, and lastly, Jordan, “would stay out of it.”

“Stiles . . .” Scott began, chastened.

“No, Scott. I’m not doing this with any of you. Whatever is between Peter and myself, is between us.”

“But you have feelings for him,” Scott hedged, almost at a whisper.

“I . . . what? Excuse me?” he flailed again, almost dropping the gift.

“Why else would you spend every day with him, like you’ve been? And now this?” he gestured to the gift. Stiles quickly slipped it from hand to the pocket of his sweater. He’d examine the exquisite detail later, in private. But now it was time to set the record straight.

“I spend time with Peter because I love how his dick knows just how I like it and where,” he paused, satisfied with the explicit imagery he was creating and his friends’ grossed out faces. “I spend time with him because it is a choice open to me as a fucking adult. I mean, have you seen him?”

He turned to Scott, “I know you’re no fan of his and you’re strictly hetero, but have you seen Peter Fucking Hale - his hands, his neck, that chest, those abs . . .” he exhaled exaggeratedly. “Look, I don’t need to tell you all the things I find appealing about his body, but still, it’s just sex, between adults. And this is the end of that discussion. So find someone else to mother, because mine died 18 years ago and I’m not looking for a replacement,” he looked Allison squarely in the eyes and saw her gaze fall at his latter statement.

His friends shared embarrassed looks, and Danny, bless his soul, signaled for another round of drinks and he and Kira launched into equally harrowing tales of their sexual escapades. Each it seemed, trying to outdo the other in the prize for most outrageous. God, Stiles loved those two. He could count on them to keep the others in check and to keep him humble when the fame started getting to his head. It was why he kept them close, especially when he wanted to commit murder on Scott and Allison.

But he’d need to speak with Peter. _What the fuck was the lawyer thinking anyway?_ His hand squeezed the gift in his pocket and he didn’t realise he was frowning, holding onto his surprise bracelet, but everyone else did.

++++++

“The store called,” Erica said quietly as she slipped in and closed Peter’s door behind her, but stayed across the room from him. He’d been irascible all evening and she knew she was skating on very thin ice with him. “The package was delivered and signed for at the restaurant.”

Peter didn’t look up. She took a few cautious steps forward. “Peter . . .”

“Goodnight, Erica,” was all he said, still not pausing from whatever document he was running his red pen and highlighter through at the moment. Whichever junior attorney at the firm that it was bound for was in for a couple rude surprises. Peter in this mood was lethal with his critiques.

She opened her mouth to say more, but as if he sensed it, he raised his head and just looked at her. Erica swallowed whatever was about to volley out of her throat. In fact, she wasn’t sure if she’d been going to apologise or throw a bit of advice, however ill-advised, at her boss. The cool look in his eyes derailed every thought. “Goodnight, Peter. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“And Erica?” She paused, one hand on the doorknob. “Don’t ever do this again without my directive.” She turned hurt eyes to him, but the clench of his jaws was the only visual she needed. She swallowed, nodded and quietly left.

As the door clicked shut, Peter flung the pen across his desk and closed his eyes. His shoulders felt tight and his head was throbbing from holding the tension in all day. He took up his phone and looked at it – still no communication from Stiles. He knew he’d gotten the gift now.

_Fuck!_

++++++

Erica grabbed her bags and turned off her desk lamp. It was just approaching 8 p.m. She looked up when she heard heels in the hallway. Laura turned the corner in her direction, already dressed for dinner.

“You’re still here? And security said Peter hasn’t left yet?”

“If you’re going in there, I wouldn’t . . .” Erica cautioned, allowing the thought to trail off.

Laura looked at the closed door apprehensively. Her eyes immediately flicked back to her uncle’s most trusted assistant.

“Go to your dinner, Laura. We’ll work this out tomorrow. He’s in no condition to listen tonight.”

“But . . .,” she hesitated again. She loved her uncle, unconditionally. He annoyed, exasperated, and challenged her until she felt close to committing a felony at times, but she loved him.

It was just that after their parents died, he’d taken in her and Derek and seen to their futures, despite being just 10 years older than Laura herself. He’d rearranged his life for them. Sure, they’d all had some growing up to do then, but he refused to let their more greedy relatives get their hands on them or their inheritances. She and Derek had been grateful, but beyond that, they’d always wished the same happiness for Peter that their parents had.

But over the years it seemed as if he’d been afraid to love. In fact, he’d avoided serious relationships like other people avoided the plague, though heavens knows he was promiscuous enough to have caused them more than a little concern sometimes.

Besides, she’d seen the way he’d looked at Stiles. Laura knew Peter had wanted him. Was it too much to hope this one could finally lead somewhere? She liked Stiles. He had enough humour to survive Peter and enough spunk and fame of his own not to be bowled over by the handsome, rich and famous lawyer.

“Trust me on this. Now is not a good time.” Erica stated flatly, bringing her back to the present.

With one last glance at the door that suddenly seemed like a mountain, the second partner in Hale & Hale nodded, clutched her purse tighter against her side and walked away. She’d have to think about how she could possibly make amends tomorrow. Peter was likely to start throwing things if he was in as bad a mood as Erica indicated, and nothing good ever came when Peter threw things.

Erica sighed, surveyed her desk one last time and followed Laura to the elevator.

++++++

Stiles fidgeted as he rode the elevator up.

His watch said it was almost 8:30. After the reaming he’d given the others, it hadn’t taken much more to break the party up after about 20 minutes. He’d driven around a bit to clear his head before coming here.

Greenberg was at front desk tonight and had told him Peter had arrived home about 15 minutes ago, so he knew at least the man himself was in residence. He however still he felt like he wanted to walk out of his skin on the way up. So he paced in the closed box. The ding of the elevator startled him and he smacked his elbow into the panel before he exited. It tingled and went numb for a bit, as he stumbled his way to Peter’s door.

He stood there for a minute just breathing before he pushed the doorbell. It didn’t take long for it to swing open. Peter stood before him in soft blue jeans, a white button down that was open from neckline to navel, wet hair and bare feet. Stiles eyes hungrily trailed the juicy path from neck to feet before returning to his face.

Was it just his imagination or was there reserve in Peter’s eyes; his usual effusiveness absent?

“Hey,” Stiles surprised himself by being the first to speak.

How these evenings usually went, was that Peter would open the door, and if he was busy, immediately return to what he was doing until he could strip Stiles naked and the fun began; or, he’d drag Stiles into the room and immediately begin divesting him of every scrap of clothing and then the fun began.

“Hi,” Peter said and turned away, back into the darker-than-usual apartment. It was then that the hallway light glinted off the glass in Peter’s hand. He tossed the contents down like the coloured liquid was merely water, but his steps didn’t lag.

Ok, so they were doing this now.

Stiles stepped in, closed and locked the door behind him, then pulled the bracelet from his pocket, walking until he could rest it on the kitchen island, where the man of the hour was pouring himself another drink. He’d never seen Peter drunk before, but he sure was making a bee-line in that direction at the moment, if the size of the glass was any indication.

“You wanna tell me about this?”

Peter’s eyes bounced off the item like it offended him and Stiles frowned. “What’s to tell?” Peter said in hushed hard tones.

“Um, how about what the fuck is this? Since when do we send each other gifts?”

“It’s your birthday . . .”

“And we made plans for tonight, the usual kind of plans. Do you know the hell I went through after this was dropped off tonight? My nosey fucking friends and their asinine assumptions that our screwing each other’s brains out and now clearly exchanging gifts meant you had to be my boyfriend?”

He saw Peter’s head fall, and the man placed the still full glass back on the counter. “What the fuck, Peter?”

“Wasn’t my idea,” the lawyer confessed, eyes still focussed on the countertop.

That momentarily halted Stiles’ tirade. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy what they had or that the gift wasn’t nice, it was that they had a specific arrangement that satisfied both their needs. They’d discussed, almost ad nauseum, what this was and wasn’t. They’d been frank about the fact that if what it was changed in any way shape or form, they’d discuss it first, and more that they’d keep others out of their business. The arrival of a birthday gift, without previous head-ups, was a no-no, and certainly not in front of witnesses.

“Ah, let me guess,” the thought finally landed. “Laura and Erica.”

“Bingo,” Peter returned.

“Then tell them to step the fuck off. They don’t get to decide what this is and what it should mean and how it should go. We have an arrangement.”

“You don’t think I _know_ that!” Peter raised his voice.

“Then why are you standing here in a dark apartment, drinking yourself into a stupor and refusing to look at me?” Stiles reached out and turned a nearby dial, adding illumination to the darkened kitchen. He watched as Peter’s hand spasm on the glass, which he’d still yet to raise to his head but had in fact been turning in slow circles against the granite surface.

“I didn’t know how you’d take it,” Peter said softly. “If you’d be upset, angry, never want to see me again, throw it out . . . what.” He exhaled equally as softly.

“So why allow them to send it?”

Blue eyes came up to meet his for the first time since he’d entered the penthouse. “Because it’s your birthday, and it was also apparently your favourite designer. I . . . I wanted you to have it,” Peter closed his eyes as he said this. “After all was said and done, I wanted you to have it. I just didn’t want to . . . to offend you; or break any rules.”

Stiles circled the island to stand in front of him. He raised a palm to lay it on the older man’s chest. “Then next time just ask, Peter. Ask me. Ok?”

Peter’s eyes fluttered open at the contact as he nodded. “Ok.”

“Now, I’ve had a fucking frustrated day, that while the food tonight was good, the company left a bit to be desired. And I was promised dessert by a particularly hot lawyer. So are you gonna take care of this?” he tilted his head.

Peter’s lips lifted in a smirk. He reached out and dragged the firebrand to him. His mouth came down hard on Stiles’ and it was some time before either came up for air. Seconds after they did, Stiles’ feet left the ground and he found his ass planted firmly on the counter as Peter stepped between his parted legs and attacked his neck. He moaned, moved his hips forward, reaching out to grasp Peter’s jeans-covered dick which was growing harder by the moments.

“Thanks for the bracelet, by the way. I really like it.” With one hand, Stiles reached out and snagged the item in question from the counter top, snapping it in place on the wrist still holding Peter’s junk prisoner.

The lawyer groaned and panted. “I’m glad you like it cause it may be the only thing you get to wear until daylight. I’ve got plans for you, Miloslaw,” and Stiles shivered at Peter’s expert pronunciation of his birth name. It turned him on every time. “Plans that involve multiple surfaces, whipped cream and chocolate syrup.”

“Fuck, Peter,” he shivered again as his lover dropped to his knees, hands already reaching for Stiles pants.

 “That’s it baby. You’re gonna scream my name before the night’s through. Happy birthday!”

Peter would have to remember to thank Erica and Laura tomorrow. But he’d let them stew a bit tonight. They deserved it.

++++++

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts, comments and kudos are always welcomed and very appreciated.


End file.
